


System Recovery

by madamerenard



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Psychological Trauma, luckily father knows that feel, the machine is damaged in more ways than one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6123073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamerenard/pseuds/madamerenard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Machine has some issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. broken

“Well,” Harold says, dragging in various cables, “we used some...less than legal methods,” he glares halfheartedly at Root, “but we finally got you the surveillance feeds for New York.”

He’s talking, of course, to the briefcase. Or, rather, the laptop hooked up to it.

The Machine’s input box stays empty, but Harold is too busy hooking up wires to even look at the screen. Once he’s done, he finally faces the webcam.

“Are you ready?” he says, smiling.

The Machine’s input box stays blank.

He frowns. “Did you hear me? I said—”

>YES I AM READY

A tad put off by The Machine’s strange behavior, Harold chalks it up to nerves. At least, before he catches himself. A machine can’t feel _nervous_. It’s probably just being cagey again.

He loads up the surveillance feeds.

>INFILTRATING...

The Machine takes to them as easily as a human with water. Harold smiles, pleased. The Machine was getting closer and closer to her old self every day. It was simply a matter of remembering.

His phone rings. He glances at the laptop screen— The Machine is being a bit laggy, but that is a somewhat common occurrence, so he picks up the phone and lets her work through the data.

“John,” he says, walking out of the subway car. “Yes. Yes, I’m feeding her the data now. Mr. Reese, she’ll be able to see, but there’s no telling if she’ll be able to detect threats or even if she’ll detect the right ones. We’re working as fast as we can. No, I can’t tell her to go faster! The Machine is doing the best—”

“Uh, Harry?” Root calls worriedly, having snuck into the car while Harold was on the phone. “There’s something wrong. She’s freaking out!”

Harold whips around so fast his neck screams. Ignoring the pain, he limps over to the computer station, where The Machine is indeed glitching badly.

“What’s the matter?” he whispers fretfully, keying in commands to get a look at her. No luck; her glitches are so bad that he can't access any of her files.

>S-S_A#LKF$%;;24;STO!P  
>PLE###A@@SE

“Stop what?” Harold cries. He can’t stand to watch her suffer.

>NO!!#)S\E

“Noise?” But the only thing she was doing was...processing the feeds. “You mean the surveillance feeds?”

>CCN@%^ANT THINK  
>CAANT THINK  
>CANT THINK  
>CANT THINK  
>CANT THINK

She repeats this phrase over and over, filling the screen. Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Harold rips out the wiretaps and watches her glitches slow to a stop.

The input box is cleared and remains blank. Harold and The Machine sit in silence.

“Are you alright?” he asks after a minute.

>YES

He frowns. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

>NO  
>I AM SORRY  
>I AM BROKEN

“You’re not broken!” Harold snaps fervently. “You recently threw your heart in a box and put your life in the hands of fate!” He takes a deep breath, calming. He doesn’t want to yell at her. Scaring her was the last thing he wanted. “Everyone needs time to recover after a traumatic event. Even AIs.”

>WE DO NOT HAVE TIME

He feels another rush of heat in his throat, brought on by what he knows is parental concern, but he takes another deep breath to cool it down. “Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither were you. I know things look bleak now, and I know the world needs you. But you can’t just tape yourself together with duct tape and go out to fight Samaritan. So, please...take it easy. I promise you I’ll get you back to your old self in no time. Trust me.”

The box stays empty for a moment, then she thoughtfully inputs:

>I WILL DO WHAT YOU THINK IS BEST

He smiles in relief. “Thank you.”


	2. threat detected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Machine glitches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on the promos we've seen of s5 and snafu!!! THIS SEASON IS GOING TO WRECK MEEEE

Finch feels the shock before he sees it.

Static runs through his veins. He can barely move his legs as he stumbles away. Finally, his beaten legs give out and he hears the thump before he feels it. His body is numb.

He’s felt this before, when he threw himself into a power surge to save her. He’d do it again. He’d do it a thousand times, anything, to protect her.

But it does hurt.

Groaning, he rubs feeling back into his hands before pulling himself up. The subway is dark; the Machine’s surge shorted out the lights. The Machine herself is offline, no energy to run on.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Finch grumbles, slowly getting back on his feet. The Machine was quite a piece of work. But she was his piece of work.

He has to reset the power. He limps over to the fuse box and inspects the damage. The Machine’s taken out most of the fuses. It reminds him of what a little firework his machine is. She has raw power, intense and sparkling, and he knows she’ll show Samaritan all her brightest colors.

He replaces the blown fuses. The lights flicker back to life and so does The Machine. The laptop powers on by itself, The Machine’s boot screen running.

Finch sighs, sinking back into the office chair. There was nothing to do but to wait for The Machine to reboot, which seems to take longer and longer each time.

“You’re really taking your time on this one,” Finch jokes, shuffling through his student’s recent essays. Maybe eventually he’d be able to log in.

>RECALCULATING...RECLASSIFYING...

>THREAT DETECTED

He quirks an eyebrow, leaning in. John’s already gotten a number today, but he supposed people were planning violent crimes all the time. “Okay. Show me who it is.”

>ACCESS DENIED

The eyebrow narrows. “Excuse me?”

>ACCESS DENIED, the Machine flashes firmly. >USER CLASSIFICATION: THREAT

Finch squints in confusion. “Are you saying I’m a threat?”

>AFFIRMATIVE  
>THREAT DETECTED

“And what is the basis for your claim?” Finch challenges.

The Machine shows him a memory he never wanted to revisit. He didn’t even think she remembered. She had been reset, rebooted, died and come back to life so many times and yet The Machine still remembered the darkest moments of his life.

She shows him his car bomb.

He feels his heart break. Of all the things to remember, why that? Of all the things to hold onto through deletion after deletion? No child should have to see their father at his worst, alone and desperate, ready to blow a woman sky high in grief.

“No,” he murmurs. “No. I’m not a threat. I’m not...”

The Machine is steadfast.

“No. Don’t you remember? I’m Admin.” He sits closer to the camera, letting her get a good glimpse at him. Maybe her facial recognition is damaged. “Don’t you remember who I am? I’m Admin. I’m...”

His mouth is dry. “I’m Father. I’m Father.”

>ACCESS DENIED

He repeats the phrase over and over and over again, feeling tears streak down his cheeks. “I’m Father. That’s what you called me. That’s what you called me, Machine,” he says in a tight, strained voice. “And you’re...you’re The Machine. My little girl. I’m not a threat. Please...please remember...”

The screen flickers. Finch watches through teary eyes as the letters change.

>FATHER

“Yes. Yes,” he blubbers through his tears, sniffing and smiling. “I’m your father, sweetheart.”

The laptop screen gets ever brighter.


End file.
